


i'm going to catch this rhythm

by wafflesofdoom



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Established Relationship, Festivals, Fluff and Mush, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 23:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11747826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesofdoom/pseuds/wafflesofdoom
Summary: snapshots of the weekend aaron and robert go to a music festival.or, more accurately, the one where robert complains for an entire weekend abouteverything.





	i'm going to catch this rhythm

**Author's Note:**

> not really set within current canon, more of a fic it fix, of sorts.

Of all the things Robert could be doing with his long weekend, four blissful, work free days, he hadn’t expected going to a festival to be one of them. Aaron had suggested it, back when the tickets had gone on sale in the autumn time, and then he’d badgered Robert to go for  _weeks_ , refusing to give up on his crusade to get Robert to go with him.

He’d always wanted to go, apparently, Aaron had told him, midst all the pleading, but he’d never had the money for a ticket, but now he was married to a proper business brain ( _flattery gets you everywhere, doesn’t it?_ ) they could more than afford a proper festival weekend.

 _A festival_. Nothing about fields of drunk people, rain, and cheap pints out of plastic cups sounded vaguely appealing to Robert, but he’d been talked into agreeing to go, Aaron delightedly dragging him to the shops to splash out on a proper tent, and all sorts of camping gear.

Robert hadn’t been camping since he was a child, for crying out loud. He had a fuzzy memory of camping out on the farm with Andy and Victoria, when they were kids, but he was fairly certain they’d all gone back to the house before it had even hit midnight, pretending Victoria had been the one to get scared.

Yet here he was, wristband tied too tightly around his wrist, wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, watching Aaron try to assemble their not-so-easy to assemble tent _(talk about false advertising.)_

“Are you going to help me, or are you going to stand there all morning?” Aaron inquired, looking up from where he was crouched on the ground. He’d donned a bright blue hoodie that morning, part of an uncharacteristic shopping trip he’d gone on to get festival clothes.

To  _Primark_ , of all places, but it was a start.

Robert glanced at his husband, arms folding across his chest. “You never told me there was a glamping option at this festival,” he muttered, thinking about the sign they’d passed on their trudge through the campsite, grass already muddy under their boots.

Aaron squinted at him, sunglasses clearly shoved in the bottom of his rucksack. “Did you actually just say the word glamping in a serious sentence?” he inquired, half laughing as he spoke.

“Yes!” Robert rolled his eyes, defensive. “I could have stayed in a decent tent with a bed n’all, that would have been way better than - than this!” he gestured vaguely at the spot they’d claimed as their own, camping gear and bags strewn all over the grass.

“Then you wouldn’t have gotten the real festival experience, would you?” Aaron said, standing up and shoving a handful of tent poles at Robert. “Come on, the sooner we get this set up, the sooner we can have a look at the arena.”

“Give me a second to  _try_  and contain my excitement.”

Aaron glared at him, hands on hips, an action he'd  _definitely_  picked up from Robert, in all the time they’d been together. “Are you going to be an absolute pain in the arse all weekend, or are you at least going to try and enjoy yourself?” he asked, snappy.

Robert sighed. “I’ll try and enjoy myself,” he said, deadpan, knowing he’d be drawing the wrath of his mardy husband if he pretended otherwise. Aaron, while he’d deny it, threw some legendary strops if he wanted to.

Robert could be having a  _very_  cold and lonely weekend if he didn’t at least try and perk up.

“Good,” Aaron beamed, planting a brief kiss on Robert’s lips before he grabbed the instructions again, looking at the mess of tent poles and fabric with a serious look on his face.

“I can’t believe we’re spending our entire weekend in a place where a load of drunk teenagers are going to be able to hear us having sex,” Robert said, squinting at the instructions over Aaron’s shoulder.

“It’s all part of the experience, innit?” Aaron smirked, elbowing him in the stomach. “It’ll be like living at the pub again, trying to keep quiet so mum didn’t get narky with us.”

Robert raised an eyebrow. “Funnily enough, not something I missed,” he said, nudging his husband. “This tent pole needs to go through the top of the tent.”

“Are you going to help?” Aaron asked, taking the pole from Robert all the same, tossing the instructions at Robert.

“I’m going to direct,” Robert grinned, smoothing out the piece of paper. “You know me, I’ve always been better at telling you what to do than doing it myself.”

“Yeah, it makes me wonder why I’m with ya at all,” Aaron joked, crouching down again, messing with the tent poles.

“The sex, mostly.”

It only took them another ten minutes to get the tent up, Aaron giving him a triumphant grin when the blue material had finally taken shape, actually looking like a proper tent.

Robert had insisted they buy a bigger one than they needed, the four person tent having more than enough room for their two massive backpacks, the shopping bag full of cans, and the food they’d hawked across three fields that morning.

He watched as Aaron messed about with the gear, admiring the view of his husbands arse before he stepped in, wanting to organise it at least a little bit. Robert crawled into the tent, snorting at how unattractive the blue was making them both, Aaron mid rolling out their sleeping mats.

“Not bad, is it?” Aaron asked with a genuine grin on his face, his excitement infectious.

Robert liked seeing his husband happy. “Could be worse, I suppose,” he agreed, rooting in one of their shopping bags for two cans, passing one to Aaron. “Cheers to this weekend then.”

Aaron’s smile was bright as he clinked his can against Robert’s, beer frothing out of the top as he cracked it open. “Cheers,” he agreed, leaning in to press a kiss to Robert’s lips. “This weekend is going to be  _great_ , I promise.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Robert wasn’t sure great was the word he’d use, but he wasn’t exactly hating the festival just yet. They’d brought camping chairs with them, the two of them sitting and working their way through a few cans as the campsite filled up, their little secluded spot quickly becoming surrounded by drunken teenagers and brightly coloured tents.

It was a good people watching spot, if anything.

“Who’s playing today that you wanted to see?” Robert inquired, too lazy to duck back into their tent to get his phone. He’d looked at the lineup on the way down, taking note of a couple of bands he’d like to see himself, but couldn’t quite remember what Aaron wanted to go to.

“Sigma,” Aaron confirmed, draining the last of his can. “They’re playing the main stage tonight, can’t wait for that.”

Robert wrinkled his nose. “Dance music?”

“Yes, Robert, dance music,” Aaron snorted, reaching behind him for another can. “Thats the point of a festival, to get drunk and dance. I know you’re old n’all, but seriously -  _oi_!”

“I’m not old,” Robert prodded at Aaron’s stomach, swiping the fresh can from him. “Take it back.”

“Nah,” Aaron grinned. “You are old. They must think I’ve taken granddad out for the weekend,” he said, jerking his head toward the nearby group, Robert assuming they were about twelve (maybe more like twenty) head to toe in glitter, clearly having the time of their lives.

“Go join ‘em if you like, they might share their face paint,” Robert teased, ducking out of the way of Aaron’s half-hearted slap. “You want to head in and get some food?” he inquired. “Vic said she’s set up inside the main arena, she’ll chuck us a free burger if I bring her a drink.”

“Should she be drinking and cooking?” Aaron raised an eyebrow, easing himself out of his camping chair, can still in hand. Robert couldn’t help but be a little impressed as his husband folded down his chair with a single hand, not spilling a drop of beer in the process, quickly doing the same with Robert’s.

Robert shrugged. “As long as theres a burger in it for me,” he said, clambering inside the tent to grab his phone and wallet, grabbing the fleece he’d brought on second thought.

He was cold enough, just  _looking_  at the bright array of festival fashion that surrounded them, and it was early yet.

Ignoring how his knees cracked as he managed to get himself up and out of the tent, Robert turned to Aaron. “You need anything?” he asked, gesturing toward the tent, having already shoved the chairs inside.

Aaron shook his head, can held halfway to his lips. “This weekend is on you, innit?”

“Oh, so I have to pay for the pleasure of sleeping in a field for three days?” Robert shoved at Aaron, the two of them heading for the pathway toward the arena.

“Yeah, you love me, so you will,” Aaron shrugged. “Drink that fast, they wont let you inside the arena with it.”

“Have you been to a festival before?” Robert inquired, slugging back some of the now very much lukewarm can.

Aaron nodded. “I went to a few with Ed,” he explained. “They’re always going on, in Europe. Went to this one in Belgium once, Tomorrowlands? It was properly mad, nearly couldn’t hack that one.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but if Robert was honest, the closest he’d gotten to a festival was going down to London with Chrissie one weekend for the festival that was on in Hyde Park,  the two of them staying in a five star hotel nearby and spending more of the weekend in the hotel spa, or holed up in their hotel room, taking advantage of the four poster bed and spectacular views of London.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been,” Robert said brightly, noticing Aaron’s expectant look.

“You never did Glasto then?”

Robert shook his head. “Do I look like the festival type?”

Aaron stopped abruptly, glancing up and down Robert with the sort of intense gaze that instantly turned his insides to mush. “You don’t look too bad,” he smirked, gesturing at the fitted shorts, the sneakers he’d deigned to wear for the weekend. “More casual than I’ve ever see ya, anyway.”

“I’m already excited to wear a suit again,” Robert responded, completely serious. He’d never been much of a one for casual clothes, always preferring the neatly pressed, put together appearance a suit could achieve - or a blazer, it wasn’t as though he wasn’t a fan of those.

Dress to impress.

It was the one thing that had gotten him through all his years alone, the one thing that had allowed him to work his way to the top. You dress for the job you want, not the one you have - if you’d forgive the cliche phrase.

But Robert wasn’t hating his casual attire, didn’t much mind how it made him feel younger than the thirty one he was.

“Good thing I like you in both, then,” Aaron said, moving forward again, navigating his way through the campsite with a practised ease, brightly painted signs pointing them toward the arena.

Music had clearly already started, the bass thumping underneath their feet.

It was kind of infectious, the rambunctious laughter, the music. Robert could feel it already loosening him up, though the can in his hand, and the three he’d already downed probably had something to do with that too.

“Careful, you almost look like you’re having fun,” Aaron said, nudging him toward a bin, quiet for a second as he drained his can of beer, always a faster drinker than Robert was.

Robert licked his lips, shaking the can in his head. Was he really going to try and chug a can in one go?

He probably hadn’t done it since he was fifteen, but Aaron had an expectant look on his face, and there was the promise of a free burger inside the arena, both making the decision for him.

“I knew there was a proper Dingle in ya,” Aaron smirked, looking oddly proud as he watched Robert drain the last of the beer, crushing the can in his hand slightly before he tossed it.

Robert couldn’t hold back a burp, giving Aaron a wink. “You know there is.”

Aaron laughed. He really, properly laughed, a sound Robert felt like he hadn’t heard in  _months_ , carefree and utterly delighted at Robert’s dirty comment. “Buy me a few more drinks, and you might even get lucky tonight as well,” he joked as they joined the queue to get into the arena, security checking they weren’t sneaking anything in.

“Tent sex, I really  _can’t_  wait,” Robert said. “You think we’ll end up putting on a show?”

Aaron wrinkled his nose. “I’d rather not, if I’m honest.”

Before Robert could reply, he was called forward in the line, a burly security guard patting at his clothes.

_Nothing like a pat down from someone old enough to be your dad to kill the mood._

“What did Vic want again?” Aaron asked, catching up with Robert as they moved through the security line, into the arena.

Robert was hardly going to admit it, but it was kind of amazing. The place was absolutely milling with people, music coming from all corners, a funfair in the corner catching Robert’s eye immediately.

He could definitely talk Aaron into having a go on the waltzers.

“A gin and tonic, I think,” Robert searched the arena, spotting the gin bar in the corner. The queue was quiet, for now, so he headed straight for it, realising as they stood waiting to be served just how hungry he actually was.

The packet of crisps he and Aaron had put away between them hadn’t exactly been a proper dinner.

“Vic said she’s by the doughnut stand, wherever that is,” Aaron said, eyes on his phone.

“Hm?”

“I texted her,” Aaron waggled his mobile at him.

Robert kind of couldn’t help but smile. Chrissie and Victoria had never been too close, really, not for any real reason, but he couldn’t deny it was nice for his husband to get on with his baby sister.

It made him feel like he was part of a real family, this time around, settled and happy in a village he’d been so determined to not call home ever again.

Funny, how life turns out how you least expect it to.

Robert quickly ordered two gin and tonics, Aaron raising an eyebrow at his drink choice as they walked away from the bar. “They’re nice!” he defended, holding his out to Aaron. “Seriously, try it.”

Aaron didn’t look convinced, but he took a sip all the same, pulling a face. “It’s a bit fizzy, innit?” he shook his head, wiping at his mouth. “I don’t really like it.”

“That’s because you’re happy with your cheap cans, aren’t ya?” Robert teased, spotting the Diddy Diner out of the corner of his eye.

“Gets me drunk faster,” Aaron shrugged, hands in his pockets as they headed across the field.

“Gin would get you plenty drunk!”

“Yeah, for a tenner a glass, you absolute ponce!”

Before they could argue the nuances of gin versus beer anymore, Victoria spotted them, waving like a man woman from inside her van. She’d really embraced the festival life already, hair done up in intricate braids, glitter and all sorts stuck to her face, looking as though she was more than ready for three days of mud, drunken customers, and music.

“I could kiss you, you know,” Victoria said, scooping the gin and tonic out of Robert’s hands before he could even say much at all. “Belle is supposed to be helping me out, but she’s gone awol - looking for the hair and makeup tent, of all things! Right before the dinner rush.”

“You want me to give her a buzz?” Aaron asked, leaning against the side of the van. He was eyeing up one of the burgers like a starving man, Vic catching his gaze instantly.

“It’s alright, you two clearly need to be fed,” Victoria rolled her eyes good-naturedly, slugging back some more of her gin before she set about serving them up some burgers and chips, the flavour combination probably a bit mental, knowing Robert’s little sister, but it smelled good.

Anything would, really.

“No wellies then, Robert?” Victoria inquired brightly, passing them out two portions of food.

Aaron grinned. “I did try and tell him,” he said, stuffing a handful of chips into his mouth straight away, Robert wincing as he chewed with his mouth open.

Robert rolled his eyes. “Not this again.”

“I told him, the forecast is terrible for the weekend, you’ll be knee deep in mud,” Aaron continued, not listening to a word Robert was saying. “But apparently, you can’t match any outfits to wellies, Vic.”

Victoria rolled her eyes, looking as though she was just completely despairing at him. “You’re not supposed to look good, at a festival,” she said, her focus on the ovens behind her again.

“I didn’t think the food vendors were supposed to be this mouthy,” Robert replied, glaring at Aaron as he tucked into his burger.

“Honestly, how do you put up with him, Aaron?” Victoria continued, doing the  _exact_  same as Aaron and ignoring everything he’d said. “He drives me mad and I only see him a few times a week.”

“I’ve been knocking him out every night the past year for a bit of peace,” Aaron grinned, tugging the hood of up jumper up over his head, unfazed by the drizzle that had started.

Great.

His husband and his sister were ganging up on him, he was eating chips out of a paper bag, and it was staring to rain.

Robert couldn't believe Aaron had given up a weekend in Spain for this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dance music, Robert decided as he stood in the midst of a very sweaty crowd of drunken  _idiots_ , was possibly the greatest crime against humanity ever committed. It’s not as though he was a music snob, or anything, but it was so  _loud_ , and he was convinced he was having a heart attack, the amount of bass throbbing through his body as they listened to the headlining set of the evening.

That, and he was pretty sure he was about to develop epilepsy if the lights changed one more time, the light blinding.

“This is great, innit?” Aaron yelled in his ear, a beer in each hand and a delighted expression on his face, eyes glazed over and his half hearted attempts at dancing (mostly swaying on the spot) a clear indication that he was drunk.

“Yeah,” Robert downed the last of his beer, reaching for one of Aaron’s. “It’s great.”

“You know,” Aaron nudged as they walked through the campsite, Robert’s ears still ringing from the forty minutes of absolute racket he’d just been forced to endure. “You could pretend like you’re willing to have a good time.”

Robert glanced at him, Aaron’s expression downfallen, his husband chewing at the side of his lip. “I’m sorry,” he couldn’t help but blurt out, hating that Aaron  _noticed_ (though, if he was entirely honest, he hadn’t made much of an effort to hide his total disinterest that evening.)

“Supposed to be a fun weekend,” Aaron continued, slipping a hand into Robert’s pocket, tangling their cold fingers together. For all the claims of it being summertime, it was bitterly cold now it was well past midnight, Robert barely able to keep his teeth from chattering as they walked back to the tent.

“It’s just really not my thing,” Robert admitted, giving Aaron’s hand a squeeze as he spoke. “You know me, don’t really even slum it by helping you out at the yard at work.”

“You have though,” Aaron replied, a twinkle in his eye. “You’ve tried, before.”

“Is that a hint?”

“A bit, yeah,” Aaron nodded. “Two more days here. Just - try and enjoy it, for me, yeah? Because I love this kind of thing, and I want you to at least enjoy it too.”

Robert couldn’t help but think of all the movies, and tv shows, and restaurants Aaron had grin and beared his way through just to please Robert, and he couldn’t help but nod, as enthusiastically as he could, at least. “I’ll try.”

Aaron beamed at him, tugging him the last few metres toward their tent. “Well then, Mr Dingle,” he smirked, playing at the zip of his hoodie. “How about we christen that tent then?”

“Can you christen a tent?” Robert raised an eyebrow, toeing off his muddy sneakers before he stepped inside the closest thing they had to a safe haven, Aaron already shimmying his way up the makeshift bed, tossing jackets and t-shirts aside to make a little more space.

“Absolutely.”

Robert zipped up the tent behind him, unable to hide the way his breath hitched as he looked over at Aaron. The fairy lights had been Victoria’s suggestion - apparently it was easier than trying to bring anything else, to light up the tent, torches too heavy, too bulky - and the soft golden light was nothing but good to Aaron, his husband lying back on his elbows, legs spread open in an all too inviting move.

God, he loved him.

He loved Aaron so bloody much, he’d put up with just about anything for him. Even a loud, noisy festival.

Robert settled himself between Aaron’s legs, capturing his husbands mouth in a kiss, revelling in the feeling of every inch of them pressed together, Aaron’s legs hooked around his waist, ankles crossed at Robert’s back.

Aaron ran his fingers through Robert’s hair, pulling and tugging in all the right ways, Robert helpless to do anything except let his mouth fall open, Aaron’s tongue exploring his mouth (like he didn’t know every inch of it already, like every inch of Robert wasn’t his, today and yesterday and  _forever_.)

If this was festival life, well -

Robert wasn’t completely opposed to it, his husbands hands down the back of his shorts, Aaron’s body warm, and familiar under his own, hours of  _this_ , just the two of them ahead of them.

It wasn’t so bad.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Robert was going to kill every single person on the campsite.

Dressed again, bundled up in a fleece and tracksuit bottoms, the tent  _cold_ , and  _damp_ , and the campsite impossibly loud around them. He’d been distracted enough for a while, sex happy and sated, able to ignore it as he and Aaron talked, bundled under two sleeping bags, discussing their plans for the next day, but now?

Now, Aaron was fast asleep, tucked under the crook of Robert’s arm, snoring softly and clearly completely unaffected by the noise, and Robert was wide awake, listening to some drunken group of teenagers play Marco Polo at five in the morning, and he was pretty much horrified to be able to hear someone having sex the next tent over it (bad sex, if the screeching was anything to go by.)

He could be at home, in their very comfortable bed, drinking an expensive bottle of wine, and unwinding with his husband. He could be having a quiet weekend in a posh hotel with Aaron, eating good food and taking advantage of some multi-million leisure centre and spa.

Hell, Robert would take a cheap as chips hotel room in Leeds and a few hours of  _silence_  over this.

Another screech.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he grumbled at no one in particular, ears ringing more than they had been after the bloody concert he’d had to stand through. Careful not to jostle Aaron too much, Robert reached out and rooted in his husbands backpack, producing a tangled pair of earphones.

He managed to undo the knots enough to be able to stick them into his ears, plugging the bright blue earbuds into his phone and turning on a random playlist, the music a welcome reprieve from what could best be described as a bloody orgy.

_Never again._

 

 

 

 

 

“I had to listen to someone have sex last night.”

Aaron pawed at Robert’s face, making a ssh-ing sound. “Go back to sleep, it’s early,” he mumbled, shuffling in closer to him, Robert barely holding in a sigh. The tent was  _boiling_.

“I can’t.”

“It’s quiet now, sleep, Robert,” Aaron still hadn’t bothered to open his eyes, curled against Robert’s side.

“I’m not tired.”

“Robert, go to sleep and stop throwing a tantrum,” Aaron blinked tiredly at him. “People definitely heard us having sex last night anyway, it’s probably just the universe paying ya back.”

Robert huffed. “At least I know how to shag someone properly. They sounded like they were in pain, Aaron - sakfnfk!”

Aaron covered Robert’s mouth with a slightly sticky (ew) hand. “Shut the fuck up, Robert.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sleeping on a campsite couldn’t be described as anything but living hell. Everything ached, and he was tired, and his back was in bits, and that was just night one of  _three_.

Robert was uncomfortable to start with, sitting on the slightly damp floor of their tent, the camping mat Aaron had sworn would make it comfortable doing absolutely  ** _nothing_**  to make robert not think about how he was essentially living in dirt for the weekend.

He was about ready to pack their bags and  _go_ , when he looked at his dishevelled appearance, hair flat against his forehead, glitter somehow stuck in his fringe, a general air of unkempt and dirty clinging to every inch of him.

Robert Sugden didn’t do festivals. even when he was the target audience for the muddy, alcohol fuelled madness, and yet somehow, at thirty one years of age, he was at one, hair a mess, mud coating his legs, all to keep his husband happy.

(He’d say Aarons smile wasn’t worth it, but his husband was looking brighter than ever, standing outside their tent, swigging a takeaway cup of tea and nattering about whatever band was playing that evening he was dying to see, and Robert couldn’t be that mad about his lack of hair products.)

(He was still going to complain about it though.)

“I look like I’ve never seen a shower in my life,” Robert grumbled, scrambling to his feet, ignoring how his joints were cracking, protesting the cramped conditions of their home for the weekend.

 _So much for the extra large tent._  With the amount of gear they had with them, it felt like there was barely even room to sleep in it, one day in, Aaron even more disinterested in tidying one day in.

Aaron simply grinned, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Roberts lips, sunglasses on and his hair absolutely wild, Aaron embracing festival life wholeheartedly. “You still look good to me. Even if you are a moany pain in the arse.”

Robert glared at him (no, he was certainly not pouting), arms folded across his chest. “I have standards, Aaron.”

“No you don’t,” Aaron grinned, kissing him again. “You married me, didn’t you?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe it was the beer, that had him agreeing to let Belle make him look a bit more festival-y (her words, not his), or maybe it was the three vodka and oranges he’d had in the space of a half an hour, but either way, he was sitting on a bench in front of the Diddy Diner, Belle painting glitter onto his face, Aaron snorting into his shoulder, four beers in, and wearing a smattering of glitter across his own face, the festival heaving around them.

“You look like an idiot,” Aaron commented, in the giggly stage of drunk, happy and filter free.

“So do you!”

“Oi, Robert, don’t move, you’ll mess it up!”

Robert forced himself to sit still, Belle’s hands freezing cold against his face as she painted something on the side of his cheek. “You look like an idiot too,” he replied, Aaron sticking out his tongue at him.

“Meant to, at a festival,” he replied. “You want another? I’m going to try and beat the queue, before whoever’s playing stops.”

“Get me two, then,” Robert replied, watching as Aaron walked away from their table, heading for the beer hall.

“Surprised, you’re mucking it out at festival,” Belle commented, clearly happy with her handiwork now, sitting back in her seat. The Dingle had an all too familiar glassy look in her eyes, but Robert trusted Victoria to look out for her.

“Aaron wanted to come,” Robert shrugged, reaching out to pick at the chips Belle had half eaten.

“You’re secretly such a softie, aren’t you?” Belle teased.

Maybe it was the beer.

Maybe it was because Robert genuinely felt quite happy, despite the mud caking his ankles and the glitter in his hair.

He winked at her. “Don’t tell anyone, you’ll ruin my reputation.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was definitely the beer, Robert thought to himself as he let the music wash over him, thumping bass making his heart race in a way that made him feel  _alive_ , the unfamiliar pop music making him feel  _happy_.

It was definitely the beer, because Robert couldn’t quite comprehend enjoying himself at something like this.

But he was.

The music was good,  ** _great_** , even, Aaron pressed against his chest, his husbands hair wild, glow-sticks lighting up their muddy outfits (courtesy of Vic and Belle, again) glitter all over their faces, beers in hand.

Robert couldn’t stop himself from slinging an arm across Aaron’s chest, tugging him closer. “I love you,” he yelled over the music, all of a sudden overwhelmed by how much love he really felt for Aaron, how much love he carried for the younger man, how much he just  _enjoyed_  spending time with him.

Aaron leaned back, grinning. “I love you too.”

Robert buried his nose in Aaron’s hair, holding him close as the song changed, soppy lyrics flooding the main stage again.

_I love you I love you I love you._

(Maybe it was the beer.)

(It didn’t make it any less true.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was raining. It hadn’t stopped raining all day, actually, the campsite like a swamp, Robert doing his nut, stuck in their tent.

“Come on, it’ll be warmer in the arena,” Aaron suggested, crumpling up a chocolate bar wrapper, tossing it at Robert’s head. “Cheer up.”

“It’s raining.”

“Happens, in England,” Aaron rolled his eyes, tugging on a second pair of seconds. “You can wear your new sexy rain poncho.”

Robert glanced at the plastic atrocity Aaron had bought when’d ventured out onto the campsite to buy some food earlier, the poncho bright blue and nothing short of a fashion crime.

“Alright,” he sighed, remembering their conversation of a few days previous, Aaron urging him to just  _try_ and enjoy himself. “But if I get soaked to the skin, I swear -“

“I’ll let you complain all night and I’ll make it up in blowjobs,” Aaron promised, tugging a raincoat on, reaching for his stupid rain poncho. It was bucketing it down, rain thundering against their tent.

Now or never.

Robert eased on his coat, pulling a face as he tugged the poncho on, following Aaron out of the tent. His husband already had his wellies on, looking like an absolute plonker, but happy nonetheless.

“You probably should have -“

“Mention that I should have worn wellies once more, Aaron, and I swear to god, I will divorce you.”

Aaron just gave a knowing smirk, hands buried in his pockets. “I fancy summat from that Asian food stand we passed the other night, you know,” he said, Robert already struggling in the thick, soupy mud as they made their way through the campsite.

(Not that he’d let on.)

“Sounds good,” Robert agreed, eyes wide as he realised he was  _stuck_. Actually, properly stuck in the mud. “I, uh - I dunno.”

“Come on, don’t be such a stick in the mud,” Aaron teased, clearly knowing what was up instantly.

The fucker.

“My shoe is stuck.”

Aaron gave him a tight lipped smile.

“Go on, say it.”

“I told you so,” Aaron snorted, leaning down so he could help Robert ease his shoe out of the thick mud, his pale skin caked in dirt. Aaron didn’t seem too bothered by it all, wiping his dirty hand on Robert’s shorts.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“I’m always right, you know.”

Aaron was  _probably_  right.

He was  **definitely**  right.

“Shut up and buy me some food, Mr Sugden.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He made it.

Robert Jacob Sugden actually made it to the end of a festival weekend  _alive_.

(Mostly, anyway.)

He was absolutely caked in dirt, he smelled like the inside of a bin, and there was glitter in every crevice and nook and cranny, but they’d managed to pack up, shoved their tent in the boot of Aaron’s car, and they were on their way home.

“Good weekend?” Aaron inquired, Robert’s sunglasses on as he pulled onto the motorway.

Robert glanced down at his phone, on the instagram caption he’d just finished typing out, the photo a ridiculous selfie of him and Aaron from their second night at the festival, covered in glitter and  _grinning_ , genuinely happy and stupidly in love.

_Survived my first festival with the husband. #neveragain #unlessheasksnicely._

Settling down in the passenger seat, Robert shrugged. “It was alright.”

 

 

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> because i couldn't not write a fix it fic where they go to a festival together. hope you enjoyed some mostly pointless, light hearted fluff!


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